


Chase Away the Cold

by PhantasmaDormi



Series: Mianite Awakening [6]
Category: Mianite Awakening, Mianite Awakening (Mianite Fan Series), Minecraft - Fandom
Genre: (more or less), Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Omelette is a personified star, Omelette is an alien, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Pretty sure i aint using the tags well, Sky is an Alternate of Prince Andor, Sky is human, Starry Sky - Freeform, Woo!, birthday gift, oh well, one day ill learn, post trial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-06 23:43:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12828645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhantasmaDormi/pseuds/PhantasmaDormi
Summary: After the stress of his trial, Sky is just trying to calm down and not panic. But with old memories still on the edge of his mind, he finds it hard. Omelette just wants to help his boyfriend feel better, but it seems he has his work cut out for him





	Chase Away the Cold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Experiment413](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Experiment413/gifts).



The chill of this room was getting to him. The silence in the air, the seemingly closeness of the walls. It was almost suffocating. But he couldn’t bring himself to go outside. Maybe it was the thought of spending the energy he didn’t have, or maybe it was the thought of seeing the residents of this land so soon after… that. He wasn’t sure and wasn’t willing to swell on the thought.

So instead he idled around his house, neither sleep nor the drive to do something coming upon him. He knew he needed to keep up with his research, or at least do something productive. It was frustrating, and it gave him too much time to think. Time to think about things best left buried.

Sky sighed. Earlier he had picked up his journal, resolving to write the recent events down in it, but he couldn’t find the words. Record keeping was important, and he knew he should at least put something down before he loses the finer details of the passing that may be significant, but nothing came up. Instead an empty page stared back at him, untouched by the torrents of his mind. 

His hand twitched. It had been getting worse as the hours dragged by. Though he wanted to chalk it off as it being unused to direct contact with the cold, mountain air, he knew better. Clenching it into a fist for a moment, he grimaced. There was too much to think about and not enough to do. 

Just as he was about to put some half-hearted attempt of retelling the trial on his paper, he was interrupted by the familiar click of the door ringing out into the still air. A small creak was heard, maybe he should fix up the hinges, and a voice called out, “Sky?” 

Taking in a deep breath, he tried to settle the tension lining his body.

“I’m upstairs Ome,” he replied down to his companion, unsurprisingly his boyfriend. 

Footsteps were heard, louder than normal, as if they were meant to ease the silence permeating the air. The sound seemed abysmally loud, far too similar to the clack of worn boots down darkened corridors and the thought made him want to puke. Pressing his lips into a firm line, he willed himself to think of anything else. Anything.

“Hey Sky,” Omelette’s voice started softly, “How are you doing?” A pause. “Actually, that’s a stupid question. Nevermind. Uhm. How’s the weather. No wait that one is stupid too…”

The human let out a strained chuckle, forcing out a response, “It’s fine Omelette. I’m… fine.” 

Great going Sky, super believable, not suspicious in the least. His left hand jerked again, and he pressed it flat against the table. He had to keep his composure. 

Shuffling was heard behind him, and Omelette spoke again, “Sky, I. It’s okay if you aren’t, you know? Being accused can feel like a betrayal.” 

A hand settled on his shoulder and he jerked, startled despite expecting something of the sort. He turned his head away from the star, not wanting to make himself feel any worse. Biting his lip, he forced himself to focus on the pressure of his hand on the table, on the chill it gave him. 

“Sorry!” Came a squeak from behind him. “I didn’t mean to, I, ugh. I didn’t to startle you. I just.” 

A sigh could be heard as Omelette searched for words. Sky could almost see the worried smile on Ome’s face, the slight crinkle to his eyes despite the fiery nature of his face. And, well, the blackness seeping from him. Such a look didn’t fit the normally cheerful being. 

The star lowered his voice, “I want to help. I hate to see you suffering like this, like you were when… like you had been downstairs.”

Sky closed his eyes, trying to fight back a grimace. He hadn’t felt that bad since… in a long time. And he was still on the edge, still stuck between being there and remembering what he has done, remembering the accusations during the trial. It was almost a relief that he hadn’t been against much opposition, if any. But he almost wished he had been called out, been held accountable for his previous actions. 

Yet, if he had been, if it had influenced the way others had seen him, what would that say for how they saw others? How they would be treated for their pasts, whether they knew of it or not. It was much easier to evaluate the consequences of something when it didn’t relate to him. When he could separate his emotions from whatever was happening. But right now, his emotions threatened to rule him.

The most he could right now was try to smooth this over.

“I’m fine,” he ignored the way his voice cracked, “I promise.”

He received no reply beyond a sigh. Perhaps the star had seen the futility in his endeavour, had given up on him, had--

Sky let out a yelp as a strong arm wrapped around him, gently pulling him from the chair. 

Panic seized him for a moment, until the soft mumblings from Omelette reached his ear, “You need a change of scenery. The cold can't be any good for you, especially without all your armor.”

Shivering, the human tried to relax into the body he was hugged into, admittedly soaking in the warmth his boyfriend let off. Setting his right hand over Ome’s arm, he sighed. He wasn’t getting out of this. Maybe it would be a good thing. 

Before making their way out of the house, Omelette made a pit stop in his room, setting Sky down on his bed long enough to rummage around his closet and drawers for a suitable set of clothes. Looking back at Sky, still camped out in his tank top and armor leggings, he shook his head. 

“Here, I think these are your size. Please put them on? That armor can hardly be comfortable right now,” The star asked earnestly, sitting the pile next to him. 

Sky eyed them, taking note of the duller colors and the seemingly soft fabric. Nodding slowly, he gestured for Omelette to turn around, to which the star did after sending him a thankful smile.

He rid himself of the tank top first, tossing to the floor carelessly. Tugging on the long-sleeved shirt, he ran his hands over the heavy fabric, somehow already feeling warmer. It was a definite improvement.

The armor was a bit slower to go, both in context of requiring more effort to remove, and for the lingering desire for protection of which the leggings could partially give. With a glance over at Omelette, still dutifully looking away, he started to remove them, albeit slower than necessary. Once done, he carefully laid them out over bed behind him and picked up the pants. They were dark and were heavy like the shirt. He put them on, and turned back to Omelette.

“You can look now,” Sky muttered, shoving a hand through his hair. It had been some time since he had donned civilian clothes over his armor. The star turned to him with a smile, a soft look entering his eyes when he took in Sky’s appearance. 

“You look so cute!” Omelette chirped, going over to hug his boyfriend gently. 

The human said nothing in return, giving a simple shrug, before he was picked up once more. Omelette carted him out of the house, and extended his wings in the cold air. Flapping them once to make sure they were ready, he jumped from the edge of the bridge, using the momentum to get them going. 

Pushing them further up into the air, he settled to glide on an updraft, soaring over the mountains, past the well traveled area. They glided far above weed fort, where no one appeared to be outside, towards the farther beach area of the land, where it was unlikely for anyone to be. 

The winds this high up were biting, not overly noticeable with Omelette being a star, or when Sky was in his armor. Nevertheless, he was glad to be wearing thicker material, the pressing chill turning his cheeks to a pale pink. Below the land was seemingly calm, rolling plains and hills dotting the landscape between towering mountains. 

Leaning his head up towards his boyfriend, Sky wondered where they were going. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the star, his nerves were getting the best of him. Paranoia was eating at his mind, conjuring images of being dropped to his death, or of being stranded in some far location. He hadn’t any tools on him, but he truly wanted to trust Omelette.

It wasn’t terribly long before the star started a slow descent, letting the air pass under his wings gently. They were settling in a plains area, one that was edged by a thin beach. Here, it was warmer, but the early winter chill kept it cold enough to warrant his current attire. Softly landing on the grass, Omelette set Sky down, fluffing his wings out to settle the feathers. 

Looking around, the star nodded, “Here should be good.”

Turning to Sky, who had casted his gaze to the stretch of sand before him, he hummed, “This should be good and far from the others, and warmer than the mountain. I was hoping it would, I don’t know, maybe make you less on edge? You seemed, er, not too great at home.” 

Omelette rubbed his shoulder nervously, a habit he had seemed to pick up recently. Taking a few steps to get to the end of the hill just before grass gave way to sand, he took a seat, looking back at Sky. 

Said human took a breath. He was still on edge, but part of this did seem to help. Whether it was the honest intentions of his boyfriend, hoping beyond hope that he could do something to help, or the calm yet lively air of this place, the subtle sounds that came with rustling grass and waves lapping gently at the shore, something soothed him. But he wasn’t fine. He wasn’t alright. But it was a start.

Shaking his head, he walked over to sit next to Omelette. The grass wasn’t the softest, with the crisp of the blades set by the lower temperature, but it wasn’t the hardness his chair had taken to. The passing breeze wasn’t the warmest, but it wasn’t the frigid stillness of his home, and he found warmth from the being beside him.

Laying his head on Omelette’s shoulder, he let his eyes slip close for a moment. He wasn’t okay. But this was a start.


End file.
